Duke Nukem: Vegas Flamethrower
by Dukepants
Summary: Aliens again? We know who to call.


Four hours ago, I was sitting in a club in Vegas with two babes, a wallet full of Benjamins, and a fistful of tequila. Now, I've gotta wash the alien shit off my boots and reload my chaingun cannon. Let me tell you exactly how this happened.

Like I said, Vegas was great. There were hot babes to spare, as long as you had the cash for it, and I definitely did. When the government drops money into your pocket, you don't have to worry about shit. I would have headed down there after I'd been paid to clear the alien bastards out of the pentagon, but I got delayed and picked up to kill some "master assassin" that was after the top-secret files in the military database about the alien DNA splicing research that the FBI and Interpol were working together to finish. So I did what I do best and kicked some ass while chewing bubble gum, and then hit the strip. During a strip show, the hottest blonde babe I'd seen in a long time was baring it all when it started.

"Shake it, baby," I called, and dropped a Benjamin on the counter. She leaned over to pick it up, and all of a sudden, the whole building rocked. The roof crashed in, and big chunks of the building started tumbling down like a pair of huge titties on a jogger. Through the giant hole in the roof came down a scaly, long-tailed, ugly son of a bitch with a big gun and a shell made of steel.

"NUKEM! YOU HAVE SEEN YOUR LAST DAY!" it hissed, and pointed its weapon my way. Everyone scattered, but I just stayed in my seat, leaning back. I pushed my sunglasses up and grinned, pulling out my Colt .45 automatic.

"Forget it, metal-breath. I'll just kick your ass and still have time to watch Oprah," I said, and squeezed off three rounds into its ugly face. Gray-green blood splattered all over, and the lizard-alien thing bit the counter, dead. I sighed, and jammed the pistol back into my hip holster. The music kept playing its gimmicky 70's beat, but there were no more girls. I could smell fire outside, and there were more explosions in the distance. "Damn... I hate disco." Back to the car to get me my arsenal.

Outside, the streets were crawling with these reptilian bastards, tearing through cars and mowing down crowds of fleeing civilians with some sort of energy weapon that vaporized whatever it touched. A cry arose from the mass of these scaly assholes, and their attention turned to me. "THERE HE IS! TEAR HIM APART!" said one of them, his armor a different color. He was probably the leader of this unit, so I knew whose head I was going to cut off and shit down their neck. Two shots, and that was that. The unit was shaken, but not broken, so they came forward, swinging clubs and shooting lasers or whatever their puny girl guns shot. I popped the trunk on my Cadillac and pulled out my baby, my single-barreled shotgun.

The whole of the surge that came at me was some thirty aliens. When the last one left coughed up some of that gray-green slime shit, holding its chest with a clawed forearm, and started to say something I can only expect would have been "You haven't seen the last of us," I took the liberty of shutting his ass up and Duke Booted him in the face, and that was that. I wiped off the barrel of my shotgun and slung it over my shoulder, and grimaced in the glow of the fire that lit what remained of the street. Up on the north end of the strip, I could see the Stratosphere (or at least what used to be the Stratosphere) covered in pulsating tentacle-like vines that reminded me of some sick Japanese porn. Now, I've watched enough TV to know that places like that are where the big bads are, and as it was, the streets were too cluttered with alien brains and shit too drive. Pistol, shotgun, shrink ray, and chaingun cannon in hand, and loads of ammo to spare, I took off toward that twisted-up alien den. After all, I'm Duke Nukem. Right now, all that stands between me and a planet full of babes, so those damn alien bitches had better bend over and kiss their asses goodbye.

I passed by a police station a few blocks up, and looked inside. Man, that was a nasty scene- little lizard things were thrusting their pointy tails into the mouths of a bunch of the dead cops like a back-alley whore. When the bodies began to twitch, though, I knew what was going on, and heads were turned to a fine paste of blood and lizard guts with my boot. I never liked the cops anyway, they were always too slow. Now, though, I knew to be on the lookout for normal people with lizard faces. The back door of the station lobby was open, and it led into a series of corridors that ended in doors.

Not surprisingly, the one nearest the back of the station that led out was locked with a keycard lock. I gritted my teeth and hit the door with my balled-up fist. "Surprise, surprise, I need a keycard," I said through gritted teeth. I've kicked the asses of a million aliens and just as many normal people, but a keycard lock squeezes me by the balls. I turned back to leave the station and just hoof it over the piles of bodies and cars, but just my luck that the lobby's ceiling caved in and stopped up the door completely.

That left very few choices. I guess I had to go back through one of the other doors.

...no, fuck that. I'm sick of these keycard doors holding me back. One pipebomb and a button push later, and that door was no longer an obstacle. Lucky day, there were a bunch of aliens waiting outside.

"I'm looking for some alien toilet to park my bricks," I yelled, blasting a shotgun shell into the air. "Who's first?"


End file.
